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No, no, there was nothing to fear. At a glance I knew that there was no power of seeing and no light left within him. He had departed from life. Yet I could not withstand his dead gaze and might have stared at him for ever, were it not for a sudden noise coming out of the floor: it was a whistling, very base or low, like a whu, whu, whu. It was the wind, no doubt, or some screech-owl perched upon the roof, and I walked away from the corpse to look out of the window. There was no breeze stirring, and no sign of any bird. Then I felt something touch my shoulder softly, and with a great groan I turned as quickly as a leaf in a hurricane. 'Be not so sad.' Mr Holleyband stood behind me, smiling. 'He was a man of a good wit, and I exhort you to take his death very patiently.'

I glanced towards the corpse; the breath was scarcely out of him, and the body was still panting with heat, yet in truth I felt nothing but thankfulness. And I alive! 'You will bury him, Mr Holleyband, will you not?'

'If it please you, Doctor Dee.'

'Yes. It pleases me.' With a bow I left him, and went laughing on my way; he would be carried to the graveyard now without so much as a piss from me. I had saved four shillings on the charge for the winding-sheet, and six shillings on the charge of the burial. The cat loves fish but loves not to wet her foot: I had consigned him to decay and darkness, but at no earthly expense.

I called for my horse and was soon riding down Broad St Giles as the wind whipped about me; all the while I thought to have heard a horse and rider close behind, but when I turned at the crossroads there was nothing upon the path except an old wooden stall upon wheels. In the bitter cold the hooves of my own horse must have rung out on the hard earth, and so caused an echo all around. Yet it was not so cold that I could not be merry, and I resolved to make my way across the river to Paris Garden. The stage had lately been erected there, just on the spot of the old archery ground near the bear-ring, and who can resist a play when he is merry? Whether it be a work tragical or historical, it enlivens the passions and excites the spirit of emulation in those who wish to make their own progress across the stage of the world. I cannot look upon a great personage portrayed without wishing that I was standing in his place — yes, even before the stinking multitude. Then would I be able to master them all, without recourse to any other art except that of my own presence.

I rode down into Thames Street, where all manner of small fires were lit for the sake of the warmth; their smoke stung in my eyes as I rode forward, but then, when I came up to the great clock, I saw through my tears a barber's shop down the side alley known as Paltock. In my gay mood I thought it right to trim and perfume myself, so without any delay I gave my horse in charge and entered the sweet-smelling shop. There was one already in the chair, presenting himself in all the colours of the rainbow; he had a pair of moustaches like a black horse-tail tied up in a knot, with two tufts sticking out on each side, and the barber continually dipped into a little basin filled with soapy water. The morning is the idlest time of day, when men that are their own masters — as gentlemen of the Inns or captains out of service — do wholly bestow themselves upon such pleasures as these; I would rather be burned in hell-fire than waste the time so, but on this day of great joy and departing I conceived a strange passion to sit and stare at all the world.

The little barber had half-a-dozen silver rings on his fingers, worth no more than threepence a piece as I should guess, and it was an art for him to keep them from tangling with the hair. But it was all one to the roaring boy sitting before him, who continually enquired about periwigs of the new curl and ruffles of the new set. Then he asked the barber the price of tooth-picks and of comb-cases, of head-brushes and of beard-brushes, as if he were about to set up in trade for himself. But truly he was one who took his continual diet in a tavern, the only rendezvous for company such as his, and now he began to speak of his games and devices. 'Do you know Tick-Tack?' he asked. The barber shook his head. 'Or Lurch?'

'No, sir. If I am at leisure I will sometimes sit close to the cards with Ruff or Colchester Trump, but these are all I know.'

'But come now, Mr Hadley, you should be a fresh gamester and find those who will bear you company with Novem Quinque or Faring. Surely you know Doublets? It is the French game for as many who will.'

So he talked on, all the time examining his moustaches from side to side, and at every angle conceivable, within an oval mirror which hung on a nail against the wall. I was longing for him to be gone and the barber, seeing my impatience, finished him with a few curls and then bid him good day. He then came back to me and led me to the chair, smiling as he took up his scissors and his comb. 'It is a pleasure,' he said, 'to serve a grave and reverend gentleman such as yourself. These young bloods, well, they hardly understand our practice. They come and ask for their hair to be cut after the Italian manner, short and round, or like a Spaniard long at the ears. This fellow here asked to be Frenchified with a lovelock down to his shoulders, but with hair such as his I could not oblige him. Now, sir. What will it be?'

'I desire to be trimmed,' I said, 'in the old English fashion.'

'Yes, it is the best, sir. You cannot beat the English style.' So then he set about me with a very good will, as he prattled on like a newly married wife. 'Did you see the pageant at Fenchurch Street, sir?' he asked me as he cut into my beard. 'It was a goodly show, truly, and the street was hung with cloth of gold. There was the sweetest playing with all manner of musicians and lord! there was one trumpet that seemed to be blowing all day long.'

'No, I did not see it.'

'The new French ambassador had come to witness it and, sir, you have never seen such a ruff on a man. It was wrapped about his neck like a wicker cage, and on his head he had a little hat with brims like the wings of a doublet.' He laughed at his memory. 'He wore a murry cloth gown, do you know the sort, laid thick on the sleeves with lace? He bore it up very quaintly so that we might all see his white taffeta hose and his black silk stockings. Well, if the Mayor had not been beside him, he would have been stoned.'

At that I laughed out loud. 'I would have rather seen his head smitten off, and his body burned by the Tower.'

'It may come to that, sir, in these days.' He stopped and sighed, before jogging off once more along his own path. 'Ah, sir, the inconstancy of fashion. I see it all before me here, you know. There is nothing in England more constant than the inconstancy of dress. Now they use the French fashion, and now the Spanish, and then the Morisco gown is in favour. It is all one thing, and then another.'

'It is the way of the world.' I revolved my own thoughts for a moment. 'Well, I for one am not afraid of their disdain.'

'Of course not.'

'You know what they say of envy, do you?'

'Tell me, sir. I always seek knowledge from gentlemen such as yourself.'

'Envy is a crocodile that weeps when he kills and sighs with none but he feeds on.'

He was silent at that but, since it was nothing to do with his own theme, he continued after a moment. 'And lord, sir, the country-people who flock here. In the dog-days of summer they pass by this shop, and come in without any need of my services to ask me for directions to the tombs at Westminster or the lions in the Tower. Can you believe it, sir?'

This put me in mind once more of my own expedition, and I asked him to finish his trimming with all speed. He consented willingly enough, and a few minutes after he was washing my face with sweet water. 'Now, sir,' he said. 'You look like an artist.'